Goblin Market, The Princes Progress, and Other Poems | Page 2

Christina Georgina Rossetti
trooped the goblin men,?With their shrill repeated cry,?'Come buy, come buy.' 90 When they reached where Laura was?They stood stock still upon the moss,?Leering at each other,?Brother with queer brother;?Signalling each other,?Brother with sly brother.?One set his basket down,?One reared his plate;?One began to weave a crown?Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown 100 (Men sell not such in any town);?One heaved the golden weight?Of dish and fruit to offer her:?'Come buy, come buy,' was still their cry.?Laura stared but did not stir,?Longed but had no money:?The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste?In tones as smooth as honey,?The cat-faced purr'd,?The rat-faced spoke a word 110 Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;?One parrot-voiced and jolly?Cried 'Pretty Goblin' still for 'Pretty Polly;'--?One whistled like a bird.
But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:?'Good folk, I have no coin;?To take were to purloin:?I have no copper in my purse,?I have no silver either,?And all my gold is on the furze 120 That shakes in windy weather?Above the rusty heather.'?'You have much gold upon your head,'?They answered all together:?'Buy from us with a golden curl.'?She clipped a precious golden lock,?She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,?Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red:?Sweeter than honey from the rock,?Stronger than man-rejoicing wine, 130 Clearer than water flowed that juice;?She never tasted such before,?How should it cloy with length of use??She sucked and sucked and sucked the more?Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;?She sucked until her lips were sore;?Then flung the emptied rinds away?But gathered up one kernel stone,?And knew not was it night or day?As she turned home alone. 140
Lizzie met her at the gate?Full of wise upbraidings:?'Dear, you should not stay so late,?Twilight is not good for maidens;?Should not loiter in the glen?In the haunts of goblin men.?Do you not remember Jeanie,?How she met them in the moonlight,?Took their gifts both choice and many,?Ate their fruits and wore their flowers 150 Plucked from bowers?Where summer ripens at all hours??But ever in the noonlight?She pined and pined away;?Sought them by night and day,?Found them no more, but dwindled and grew grey;?Then fell with the first snow,?While to this day no grass will grow?Where she lies low:?I planted daisies there a year ago 160 That never blow.?You should not loiter so.'?'Nay, hush,' said Laura:?'Nay, hush, my sister:?I ate and ate my fill,?Yet my mouth waters still;?To-morrow night I will?Buy more:' and kissed her:?'Have done with sorrow;?I'll bring you plums to-morrow 170 Fresh on their mother twigs,?Cherries worth getting;?You cannot think what figs?My teeth have met in,?What melons icy-cold?Piled on a dish of gold?Too huge for me to hold,?What peaches with a velvet nap,?Pellucid grapes without one seed:?Odorous indeed must be the mead 180 Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink?With lilies at the brink,?And sugar-sweet their sap.'
Golden head by golden head,?Like two pigeons in one nest?Folded in each other's wings,?They lay down in their curtained bed:?Like two blossoms on one stem,?Like two flakes of new-fall'n snow,?Like two wands of ivory 190 Tipped with gold for awful kings.?Moon and stars gazed in at them,?Wind sang to them lullaby,?Lumbering owls forbore to fly,?Not a bat flapped to and fro?Round their rest:?Cheek to cheek and breast to breast?Locked together in one nest.
Early in the morning?When the first cock crowed his warning, 200 Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,?Laura rose with Lizzie:?Fetched in honey, milked the cows,?Aired and set to rights the house,?Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,?Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,?Next churned butter, whipped up cream,?Fed their poultry, sat and sewed;?Talked as modest maidens should:?Lizzie with an open heart, 210 Laura in an absent dream,?One content, one sick in part;?One warbling for the mere bright day's delight,?One longing for the night.
At length slow evening came:?They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;?Lizzie most placid in her look,?Laura most like a leaping flame.?They drew the gurgling water from its deep;?Lizzie plucked purple and rich golden flags, 220 Then turning homeward said: 'The sunset flushes?Those furthest loftiest crags;?Come, Laura, not another maiden lags,?No wilful squirrel wags,?The beasts and birds are fast asleep.'?But Laura loitered still among the rushes?And said the bank was steep.
And said the hour was early still?The dew not fall'n, the wind not chill:?Listening ever, but not catching 230 The customary cry,?'Come buy, come buy,'?With its iterated jingle?Of sugar-baited words:?Not for all her watching?Once discerning even one goblin?Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;?Let alone the herds?That used to tramp along the glen,?In groups or single, 240 Of brisk fruit-merchant men.
Till Lizzie urged, 'O Laura, come;?I hear the fruit-call but I dare not look:?You should not loiter longer at this brook:?Come with me home.?The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,?Each glowworm winks her spark,?Let us get home before the night grows dark:?For clouds may gather?Though this is summer weather, 250 Put out the lights and drench us through;?Then
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